Delta of Mercury
by In.a.blue.bathrobe
Summary: Emmett contemplates Rosalie's silence, practical dreams and airplane peanuts. A short story with the Tropic kids for the Twilight Twenty-five Challenge.
1. Crusade

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Crusade**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

I don't own their names. Pity.

Thank you to ElleCC for beta'ing this, even though it's non-Jasper-centric.

**Emmett:**

I managed to get the Jeep into the parking garage at SeaTac before it started to pour, but all the spaces on the lower levels were for compact cars only. I spiraled up the corkscrew ramps between the levels, but finally gave up. We pulled into the fourth level across two little empty spots, straddling the yellow line between them, and Rosalie and I put the top up, making quick work of the zippered windows. It had been stupid to leave Forks with it down, and we'd come close to freezing on the highway. I was hoping this Indian summer would hold out for one more day, but November was a fickle bitch, and Rose would have to drive home in the rain.

We continued up to the roof, and found a spot close to the door. I didn't have to be inside the airport for a few minutes; I turned off the engine and listened to the drops hitting the canvas top, beating a solid rhythm that changed tempo with the wind. The blonde next to me said nothing, maintaining the norm, but she fidgeted, which made me curious. She fiddled with the keys, and tucked her hair behind her ear, and squirmed in her seat, until I finally caught her chin in my hand and turned her face gently, to make her look at me.

Her eyes, usually crystal blue, were grey with the weather, and as silent as her lips. I looked for a clue into her head, but her thoughts weren't on the surface. I don't know why I thought they might be; she was as much a mystery this morning as the day our parents moved in together, a year ago.

"Rose," I started, trying not to beg her to tell me what was on her mind, "I have to do this. We can't just wait for them anymore."

Sane choices. Attainable dreams. That's what we had to focus on.

She nodded.

She looked away from my eyes, and I sighed, and let go at her smallest resistance. We hadn't talked about our losing at the Blues Festival competition, or at least I hadn't, because I knew she wouldn't speak at all, and I didn't feel like having a one-sided conversation. The others hadn't seemed to care - they were just excited to have been on stage and been seen - but they were juniors and still had another year before they had to decide about college and what the hell they were going to do after graduation.

The band had done well, but we hadn't won the summer tour, and we didn't even have a good demo CD to give to the label scouts. So after the loss two weeks ago, the back-up plan moved to the forefront, and now I was flying to Massachusetts to look at schools.

"You'd get accepted at Berklee College of Music in a heartbeat," I said. "Or New England Conservatory, if you like it better. I'll check them out, take a quick tour while I'm there."

My test scores would get me into any math program at any school I wanted; MIT had sent me letters earlier this fall, and I'd set up an interview at Harvard and a few smaller schools in the Boston area, while I was there. I'd study wave theory or statistics or some shit like that. Rosalie could study music anywhere, or even start a solo career. She could have her first pick of any band in need of a guitar player, though I shied away from the thought, feeling a little guilty for hacking on Edward for being all emo about Bella singing with someone else.

I shook my head a little, trying to clear it so my thoughts would lay in one clean direction.

Rosalie watched me, and when I took a breath to speak, she put a finger over my lips. She smiled a little, and tilted her head, and then leaned in and kissed me. I closed my eyes in relief, and enjoyed heaven for a few seconds, which this morning tasted faintly of coffee with cream and sugar. I pulled away a fraction when things started to get heated, trying to keep it light, but then she bit me, trapping me with her hard teeth clamped onto my bottom lip, and a bolt of lust shot straight through my entire body.

I gasped, and she let go, and I pulled away, staring at her. She knew better than to push my self control. What was she trying to do to me?

She stared back, eyes wide, breath all shaky, and I couldn't tell if she wanted me or was afraid.

Two weeks ago, in the hotel room in Olympia, I'd been so keyed up that I was pretty rough with her, and she'd fought me when I'd lost it at the end and pounded into her. She'd practically screamed, grabbing at my arms and sinking her nails in, and now I was afraid to hurt her again. We'd had sex only once since then, an awkward lukewarm meeting of skin that left me frustrated and worried that she was losing interest in the big dumb brute living over the garage.

The alarm on my phone rang, jarring through the tension in the Jeep, five minutes until I had to check in and get my boarding pass. I grabbed my duffel from the back and we ran through the rain to the elevators and then jumped on the shuttle bus to the airport.

The queue at the ticket counter was small, and I had no luggage to check. I held back from the line at the security for a moment, and turned to the tall girl next to me. I tried to think of something clever to say, or even something idiotic and funny, but all I could do was stare at her.

"I made you something," I finally said, and handed her my old iPod Shuffle. I'd filled it with songs we liked, and several we'd recorded together, and a few I'd made of just my drumming. The last one, a take on Hossam Ramzey's "Halloween," was new; I'd recorded it last night after she had gone to sleep.

She looked at me with a question on her brows, but was silent.

"Just in case you miss me," I said, shrugging.

She looked offended, and punched my arm, finally breaking through the tightness of the past few days, and I grinned at her, relieved to have back the usual thorny Rose.

I pulled her to me, and kissed the birthmark above her lip, and then her mouth, and whispered, "Just sayin'."

She stroked my face with her fingertip, where the ridiculous dimple pocked my cheek, and then pulled something from her satchel. She handed it to me, almost hesitantly, and I frowned. When was Rosalie ever tentative?

"What is it?" I asked, opening the brown paper lunch bag. I caught a glimpse of an apple and some cookies before she twitched it out of my grasp and tucked it into the pocket at the end of my bag.

Just lunch. I'd complained that my two flights were just short enough that the airline didn't have to provide a meal, not that the dinky boxed snacks they served could be called food anyway, and my change at O'Hare was too short to stop and eat. It was a practical gift, and Rose all over: no nonsense, no fluff. What was I expecting?

"Don't wait. Go home," I said.

"It's not home without you," she said, her voice low and husky, and my heart beat hard, the way it always did when she finally spoke. I kissed her again, and got into the line at the security gates, and looked back only when I got to the x-ray machines. She was gone.

I laughed good-naturedly with the tiny Latina guard who marveled at the size of my shoes, but the short man running the metal detector was less friendly when I set off the walk-through machine. I didn't have Jasper's ability to say the right thing to put anyone at ease, but I knew "little man syndrome" when I saw it, and called him "sir," and acted appropriately dismayed at the mention of a strip search until his aggression faded. His hand-held wand blipped over my left thigh, and then screamed in protest at the surgical steel and titanium that held my lower leg bones together after my fall this past spring.

They let me have my wallet, and I fished out the card that Dad had given me that explained the metal content in my calf. He hadn't done the surgery himself, but no one seemed to notice that my doctor and I had the same last name. They waved me through, and I deliberately hiked my pant legs up to show off the scars when I was putting my shoes back on, and I wished I'd had the foresight to do that when I was taking them off.

I fell into line behind a group of cute little Asian girls, all dressed in Seattle U. sweatshirts, chattering about their Thanksgiving plans. I was careful to take small strides so I wouldn't step on anyone, feeling like a Clydesdale caught in a stampede of delicate ponies.

The wheels on their cases clicked over the breaks in the floor with a steady cadence, a marching paradiddle beat leading soldiers on a crusade, and then shifted to an even faster rhythm as the tiles got smaller, reminding me of the opening of "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover," and I smiled to myself at the irony as the song bounced through my brain.

"Sister-Lover" I called Rose sometimes, but never near Esme. My stepmother seemed to approve of me, and us, but watched her daughter with a hawk's vigilance, waiting for sudden moves.

I was very careful to give her her privacy, even after we started having sex. We rarely slept together, and if we shared a bed, it was usually mine. I never went into her room without knocking.

It was so strange to know someone so well, and then not at all. I knew what brand of toothpaste she used, and how her pinky curled out on a B minor chord, that she seemed to like it from behind a lot; she didn't eat things with raisins, and she snored a little if she'd been drinking.

I didn't know what she wanted for Christmas or what she thought of my music, if she liked my hair short or long, or who her first boyfriend had been, or if she even wanted to come away to school with me next fall.

I wished she was coming with me today, but the schools she was interested in didn't have student auditions until January. She was still undecided about her plans, or at least she hadn't voiced any of them to me.

I hoped they were practical goals.

I reached the gate and the throng waiting to board, and found an empty seat at the row of vinyl coated metal chairs, stretching my legs into the aisle so I wouldn't crowd the woman next to me. The people around me looked at me in distaste and fear, hoping they wouldn't have to be the one to sit next to the big guy. I put them out of their misery, and got on when business class was called. It was a necessary expense when I flew; I simply did not fit in the main cabin seating. My head was too high for the backs and my knees could not wedge into the space between the seat and the one in front of it.

I shoved my duffel into the overhead bin, closed the flimsy lid, hit my head on it as I sat down, and strapped in for take-off.

The ascent was easy, hardly any dips, and I watched Seattle drop away into a smear of silver just before we broke through the grey cover into sun.

I stared at the clouds, strange random masses with no pattern or substance - when I was little I thought this was what Heaven must be like, and I would look for angels playing harps through the tiny oval windows. Now I knew that angels played acoustic guitar; I heard one for three days straight: the only thing that had kept me from going mental from the pain as they put me back together and marveled how the fall hadn't killed me.

The flight attendant came by with the cart and caught my instinctive glance at her cleavage. She smiled a little and gave me more snack pouches, murmuring something about me looking hungry, bending deeper. I got that sometimes: cougar women flirting. Alice would make sarcastic remarks about them looking for an extra-large experience. This one was barely five-foot-two and I'd probably break her just by looking at her, not that I was interested; she wasn't blond with electric blue eyes, and she talked too much.

Although, I did appreciate the extra peanuts.

Something to drink was out of the question, even though the salt made my throat burn with thirst; the risk of having a full bladder was not worth the quenching. I don't fit in airplane lavatories.

The snack made me hungrier, though, and my stomach growled audibly over the low roar of the engines. The older lady across the aisle looked at me wide-eyed, and I shrugged, grinning in apology. She offered me her untouched packet of nuts, but I shook my head. I stood and fumbled in the overhead compartment, digging in my bag for the lunch that Rosalie had packed, feeling like a bear pawing a tree for honey.

The plane lurched with a bit of turbulence before I sat down, and I stumbled on my bad knee a little. I apologized profusely to the person whose seat I grabbed, keeping my expression vague. Folks are less intimidated by a large man if they think he's stupid.

I closed the overhead bin and sat down, knocking my head again, and tried not to sulk. I was frustrated by a universe that was too small, doorways that I couldn't squeeze through and ceilings that were too low. The only time I felt like I fit properly was when I was with Rosalie, and her silence kept me as shut out as the rest of the world.

I rummaged through the lunch she had packed, an apple and a banana, a bag of cookies and two cheese sandwiches, but there was something else in the bottom of the bag. I pulled it out, and my hunger fled as I stared at it, my heart pounding.

The small book was dwarfed by my hands. The classic red leather was worn smooth at the corners, and the ribbon tying it closed was frayed at one end. A silhouette of a rose was embossed on the diary cover.

She'd let me in.


	2. soft

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Soft**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

I am six today.  
I had ice cream cake.  
Daddy gave me this book and I like it. It isnt pink. And this pen. It is red. I like red.  
He says he is prowd that I can rite. And he loved wen I rote him my letter.  
He says I can rite in this book and look back and see my self grow up.  
He cut off his hair and beerd. That makes me sad. It is soft.  
I dont like it when he weres his green cloths. That means he is going a way.  
I dont like green.


	3. Vivid

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Vivid**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Mommy always says we have to look pretty for Daddy.  
And she lets me wear her lipstick. It says VIVID CHERRY on the bottom.  
A man came five days ago.  
We went to a little parade. It was very sunny and hot. There were guns, and Mommy got a flag folded into a triangle and Jasper got Daddy's hat.  
I didn't get anything.  
Maybe I should have been more pretty.  
Nine more days until second grade.  
Mommy says I cant wear lipstick to school til I am older.  
I wear cherry chapstick and make pretend that Daddy is coming home.


	4. Mirror

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Mirror**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Dear Daddy,  
Mommy said it is nice if I wanted to write you letters in my diary, and she thinks that you will get them. She also said that if I want to see you I can just look in a mirror because I look just like you. I want to have lots of mirrors in my room so that I can see you all the time.  
I am fine.  
Jasper gets in trouble at school a lot for fighting.  
He and Jason Jenks got suspended for two days for mooning the school bus.  
Mommy was really angry.  
Love, Rosalie


	5. Retribution

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Retribution**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Therapy is stupid. I'm supposed to write down my feelings.  
I wish everybody would stop talking in whispers.  
They treat me like I'm made of glass.  
I've had my period twice. What those boys did made me bleed less than that.  
It hurt to walk for a few days.  
I wish they would take care of Jasper. Some of his cuts from their broken bottles aren't healing right, and I can see at least one on his arm is infected.  
People say whatever he did to Royce King's back means that he will never walk again.  
I'm okay with that.


	6. Stagnant

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Stagnant**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Dear Dad,  
We're moving. Mom said this house is stagnant and we need a fresh start at life, so we are going to Washington, to live in Grampa Platt's old house.  
I found your guitar in the attic. Mom said I could have it. I remember when you played it.  
My fingers hurt but I can play Stairway to Heaven. I can play Iko-Iko too and Jasper sings it, but it's terrible because his voice is cracking.  
It's taken a long time for him to let me go outside by myself, without freaking out, but he's getting better.  
Love, Rose


	7. Play

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Play**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Jasper's new band is practicing in the garage. Mom said they could play in the house, but apparently it's traditional for a new band to play in the garage. So we had to move all her baby pot plants and grow lights to the basement.  
Why can't they play in the Cullens' garage? And how many times do they have to play Black Hole Sun?  
They want me to play with them, but they are sweaty and have fart contests.  
The drummer will be a freshman like me this fall. He is the only boy I've met taller than me.


	8. Worship

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Worship**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

This little goth girl with black eyeliner everywhere comes up to us at the diner, out of nowhere, hugs Edward and Emmett -she's their sister and just got home from a summer in London- takes one look at Jasper, pulls the menthol out of his mouth and stomps on it and kisses him all open mouthed and tells him to quit smoking because it makes him taste like minty dogshit, like she's some kind of expert, and now he worships her black toenails, and they'll be playing at her Halloween party.  
She talks so fast I wonder when she breathes.


	9. Voracious

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Voracious**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

It's kind of fascinating to watch the boys eat.  
They bet Emmett couldn't eat an extra large with pepperoni in under five minutes, and Edward had to pay him ten bucks and they made Jasper do a headstand until he passed out because he only had thirty cents on him.  
The band was actually good at Halloween, so Alice said they had to have regular practices and I would be joining them and they had to find a new name, and Jasper couldn't show his ass anymore because we were going to be famous soon.  
She's like a voracious butterfly.


	10. Crave

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Crave**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

I got my driver's license yesterday.  
Mom bought me a BMW M3.  
Red.  
I asked her why, and she said because I would never ask.  
I want to drive to Mexico without stopping, with the top down and my guitar in the backseat, flying past small towns like this, just signs on the highway.  
This place eats at you.  
It's foggy, wet and weird, like someone has carved everything from pewter.  
My hair has turned ashen, like my skin, and I wear lipstick that matches my car, my guitar, my craving for speed, and because he stares at my mouth.


	11. Awkward

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Awkward**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Dear Dad,  
Just in case you're out haunting some Middle Eastern oasis somewhere, and missed what happened here last night:  
Your beloved son, who was grounded two weeks ago for getting caught with his pants down-  
(Literally. Alice had her shirt off. They aren't even sixteen yet. Mom freaked out and decided to act like a parent for once.)  
-snuck into the Cullen residence to see her. Only he got the rooms wrong, and crawled into CARLISLE'S window. And guess who was in the doctor's bed without pants OR shirt?  
Your faithful widow.  
Just thought you should know.  
Love, Rose.


	12. Juvenile

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Juvenile**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Dad,  
Mom says I have to let her move on.  
I point out that I haven't said a word.  
She says that I don't have to.  
Jasper tells us we are both being juvenile.  
He says this while wearing his Superman pajamas that reek of pot smoke and clomping around in your old cowboy boots that are so big he walks right out of them half the time.  
I like Carlisle, but I don't want a stepfather.  
I want things to be the way they used to be, when we were a family and close, and everyone was happy.  
Rose


	13. Walls

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Walls**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Mom is building us a home of glass and wood, and there's a set of stairs just for me. She says my room is the heart of the house, but I only see four walls.  
She and Edward made a recording studio in the basement with acoustic carpet everywhere.  
Emmett's room is on the other side of the garage, so he can practice without us killing him.  
Carlisle said Jasper and Alice couldn't share a bedroom until they were married. They threatened to run off to Vegas, so they're getting joining rooms, instead.  
Idiots.  
It's a home for crazy people.


	14. Jealousy

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Jealousy**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Emmett won't look at me anymore, at least not when he thinks I am looking.  
He's dating Senna Kachiri, but Victoria says he doesn't even kiss her. She's too small for him, he looks uncomfortable, like he's afraid he will step on her.  
I hate the way she talks to him, like he's stupid.  
She's not heard him play, the way he leads us through a song, driving the beat perfectly, as if he is as aware of my hands as I am myself.  
We still practice every day.  
At least I have that, even if he doesn't smile anymore.


	15. Platonic

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Platonic**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

What a strange kid.  
He sits at his keyboard and I wait for him to start, and then I realize he's waiting for me, and we grin.  
We must look like a skinny Buddha and a blond Mona Lisa, both smiling.  
We play for three hours straight.  
Then Emmett fills the doorway, scowling, and Edward shoves him into the hallway, and I hear him saying -dude, it's platonic, let go of my neck- and then comes back in, rolling his eyes.  
Kid has any girl he wants, when he wants, as often, and he's still the loneliest guy on earth.


	16. Plea

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Plea**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

I can't sleep.  
Carlisle sent me home.  
I played him every song I know. Twice.  
He won't wake up.  
The nurses said he will, and brought me sandwiches I couldn't eat.  
I saw him from the porch, in the distance, at the very top of a red cedar, clinging like a bear.  
When he waved, the tip bent from his weight, and I watched him hanging by one hand, legs swinging, and I heard him scream and my heart broke even before the pine tree snapped.  
I don't know how to pray, so I played Segovia.  
Please wake up.  
Please.


	17. Erosion

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Erosion**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

I feel like I'm crumbling, like the surface of my skin is being sanded away, every time he looks at me.  
He stands too close, forcing me to look up, and I feel delicate, worn thin to something brittle, but he never breaks through.  
He stands outside my door when I practice.  
He's never there when I look, but the shapes of his feet are embossed into the carpet, size fourteen shoeprints that make my elevens look small.  
I don't know how to ask him to come in. I wish he would just open the door.  
He won't come in.


	18. Touch

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Touch**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

I couldn't sleep.  
I took my father's guitar, and went downstairs, and down again into the basement, and he was there, playing an Arabic rhythm on a little beaded drum, the only light a candle in a bowl.  
So I played a Spanish melody, and when he stopped I asked how long he had been there, and he whispered -since he first saw me.  
And he touched my face, and I felt like a cherished thing, fragile china in his hands.  
So I kissed him, and he told me to go back to bed.  
And now I still can't sleep.


	19. Raindrops

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Raindrops**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

I'd forgotten what crying felt like.  
My face got hot and my eyes hurt, and when I figured out what was happening I ran into the rain and tilted my face up into it, to make it stop.  
Jasper came and asked me what was wrong, and when I told him he cried, too.  
That made it worse.  
He should have laughed and told me it was no big deal.  
I didn't cry when it happened. Not once. And now, four years later, I'm crying, because I want Emmett to be the only one, and they took that from me.


	20. Light

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Light**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Alice is sliding into a dark place, and Jasper is scared.  
We watched the sunset and she talked about chaotic Alice things like abstract expressionist art and fear of future unknowns.  
I said -the sun will always rise.  
She laughed a little.  
After everyone goes to bed I go downstairs.  
He lifts me, as if I were light as a feather, and spreads me over his lap and peels off my nightclothes, the only light the red blink of the recording bulb, and the next night we do it again, while listening to the sounds we made the night before.


	21. Sour

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Sour**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

The girl Edward was doing destroyed his laptop with all our sound files last week.  
Guilt leaves a sour taste in the mouth.  
We shouldn't have left all the responsibility up to him.  
Jasper is wrecked, and is trying hard to not let it show.  
Alice flutters between them, caught like a moth between neighboring porch lights, pulled to which boy's pain shines brightest at the moment.  
I'm worried about her the most.  
Emmett touches me like I'm about to shatter, and I wish I could scream, because I really want him to grab me hard and never let go.


	22. Aesthetic

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Aesthetic**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

The new girl is good; she knows how to listen while she sings.  
She's good for Alice, too. I really hope Edward doesn't fuck it up –I've never seen him getting stupid for a girl like this before.  
She can sing Zep and White Stripes but she's also into chick crap like Dido and Little Boots.  
Jasper says I shouldn't judge and must learn to embrace my feminine aesthetic.  
Jasper needs to embrace his less. He wore a purple bowler hat yesterday.  
Emmett doesn't think the band will make it, but he won't say it out loud.  
He plays anyway.


	23. Heart

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Heart**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

There were 6,163 people there last night, and I spoke to every single one of them. I said -hello, I'm Rose, and this is my guitar- and by the end they didn't care if I was pretty or not. It felt good to be tall and have long legs and calloused hands.  
Emmett was on fire, like some Norse warrior god leading his troops with battle drums, and my skin burned every time he looked at me.  
He finally touched me, the night before, like I was real, with hard hands and rough mouth, and I cried out for more.


	24. Wood

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Wood**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own the rest.  
Thank you, ElleCC.

* * *

Dad,  
I feel like I'm carved of wood, a statue.  
Emmett is leaving tomorrow to look at colleges.  
He doesn't hear how incredibly good his music is.  
He says I have to talk to him, and I pick up my guitar, to tell him how I feel, and he shakes his head and leaves.  
He walks into the forest, and I'll find him later, underneath his broken tree, where he goes when he's upset. I'll kiss him, over and over, and then he won't need me to speak anymore.  
It won't be enough to make him stay.  
Help me.  
Rose


	25. Sky

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: **Sky**  
Pen name: in..bathrobe  
Pairing: Rosalie and Emmett  
Rating: M

SM owns all that is Twilight; I own a lot of Jimi recordings.  
Thank you, ElleCC, for the comma pruning and hand holding.

* * *

**Emmett:**

A blond teenage boy sat sprawled in a chrome chair by the glass wall that fronted the entrance to the airport, legs stretched out, right foot in a black cowboy boot with silver toe tips, the other in a purple sock. He was reading a large yellow book. A small child stood between him and a large family, holding the left boot, looking annoyed.

"Give him his book back, Jasper," I said, in greeting.

"We traded," my stepbrother stated, not looking up from _Curious George_.

I tweaked the book from his hands and held it out to the little boy. He looked at me, terrified, but gathered his courage enough to snatch the book and run back to his mother, who watched with amusement.

Jazz sighed, launched out of his chair, punched me on the arm and limped toward the door.

"So what made you come to your senses and turn around? Or did you just get lost at O'Hare?" he asked.

"The probability of a high school band making it big is like one in a million, Jazz."

"Volturi Guard did it."

"Dude, they were Peninsula College students. And the odds of two bands from the same backwoods corner of-"

"Hey!" The child ran toward us, brandishing the errant footwear.

"I'd rather have the book," Jasper told him. The boy grinned and shook his head, dropped the boot at the sock-clad foot and scampered back to his family.

"You're really fucking weird, you know that?" I grumbled.

"Hey. You could learn a lot from the Man in the Yellow Hat."

"Like what?"

"Not to run off and get into trouble, so we don't have to keep rescuing your ass."

"I'm not a fucking monkey, man." I was on the verge of getting annoyed.

"You're not a mathematician, either. You're a musician. And the sooner you stop fighting that, the sooner you'll be comfortable in your own skin. Here." He threw me the keys to my Jeep. "You're driving home. That thing is a tank. No finesse at all."

I didn't point out that he could have come in his own vehicle, but he knew how cramped I felt in his little Audi, and I recognized his gesture for what it was.

I drove, relieved to be in control of my own transport. This morning's downpour had become evening drizzle, and the windshield wipers made a slow syncopated accompaniment to the bodhran drum on Jasper's Celtic playlist.

"So what did you want to know?" he asked, after we'd been on the highway for thirty minutes. I thought he'd been asleep; his seat was tilted back, his feet were propped up on the dash, and his eyes were closed.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Don't play stupid. There is only one force of nature that could have made you turn around at Chicago, and you texted me to come pick you up, not her, which means you want to pump me for information about my sister."

I pulled Rosalie's diary from my pocket and tossed it onto his lap. He sat up slightly, hands moving quickly with male instinct to protect his groin, and then held it up.

"Shit, man! I don't want to read this!" He threw it on the dash. "You wouldn't want to read your sister's, trust me."

"Alice keeps a diary?"

"Yeah. It's _filthy_," he said, with pride. "It even has drawings."

"Ugh!"

"Exactly."

I contemplated the white lines on the highway.

"Where is Royce King now?" I finally asked.

"At home, I imagine," my stepbrother's voice was level, and he leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes, again. One foot on the dash twitched slightly, the only clue giving lie to his relaxed pose. "He's in a wheelchair and has to shit in a bag, now."

"You should have killed him." I swallowed the black bile in my throat, really wishing I had something handy to slam my fists into.

"Dude. I was only twelve."

"What did you do to him?"

"I don't remember. It was either 'Tiger Charges Down the Mountain', or 'Drunken Monkey Opens the Door.'"

"Karate?"

"Kung Fu. Some idiot told my mother martial arts might teach me some discipline." He smiled at the canvas top, his eyes still closed. "What else do you want to know?'

"What should I know?" I was getting irritated with him. Jazz knew better than anyone how to get under my skin.

"First time she broke a guitar string was pretty traumatic. Oh, yeah, watching this orangutan she was in love with fall 150 feet out of a pine tree, and then finding his broken bloody body at the bottom of it probably messed with her head, too."

We didn't speak much more on the way home.

Alice met us at the door and took my coat, pointed at our muddy shoes until we took them off, handed me a mug of cocoa, told us that Esme was meeting Dad for dinner because he had to work late, called me an asshole and said she knew I would turn around, kissed Jasper and thanked him for getting me, and then spun off to the kitchen just before the timer on the oven dinged.

Bella sat at the kitchen counter, comparing new album reviews in _Spin_ and _Rolling Stone_. She looked up when I walked in the door, but said nothing.

I sighed.

"Drummers are a dime a dozen," I said, wondering why I felt like I had to apologize to her.

"Tell that to Led Zeppelin," she snarked back.

"I'm no John Bonham," I protested.

"How do you know?" she countered, but then she grinned and gestured with her head to the door to the basement door. "He's downstairs."

I opened the door and saw there was no red glow from the sound booth light.

"I'm going to eat all of these cookies if you don't get your ass up here and have some," I shouted down the stairway.

A second later, my little brother bounded up the stairs, and his face shone with a mix of hope and surprise and something else that made him look a lot like Mom, but then an aloof mask slid into place and he stuck his nose in the air.

"Don't fucking touch those cookies, shithead. You didn't help make them, so you don't get to eat any." Edward snagged one off the rack before Alice could smack his hand with a spatula. He looked at me for a long moment, and then turned his back. He moved to Bella's side and whispered something in her ear that made her shiver and bite her lip, and then went downstairs, slamming the door behind him.

I grabbed a cookie, wondering that Rosalie hadn't heard me shouting. She was most likely practicing in her room, and I procrastinated, my heart beating with the force of a kettle drum as I decided to drop my bag off in my room and try to get my head on straight before I talked to her.

She was there, on my bed, asleep, one of my pillows clutched to her chest, looking somehow small and childlike. I watched her for a moment, and then went to her and brushed a strand of golden hair away from her face.

Her eyes flashed open, and she sat up, instantly awake and alert. Her eyes flicked to the window and the night sky, and then back to me.

"Tell me to stay," I said, trying to keep my face and my heart calm, as I finally voiced the words that had pounded in my brain since before the plane landed in Chicago.

She looked at me as if I had slapped her, and shook her head.

"Rosalie, you have to talk to me." I pulled the little red diary from the pocket of my sweatshirt and dropped it on her lap. "That night at the Festival? When I got all jealous and crap? I thought I'd _hurt_ you!"

Her eyes widened, and the tears pooling in them receded. She shook her head again, and her pale cheeks blushed with the prettiest pink I'd ever seen. The only other time I'd seen her skin flushed that color was when she was clenching around my dick or my fingers, and my body responded to it immediately.

"Tell me to stay, Rose."

But she shook her head again, and her face paled.

"Why not?" I suddenly wondered if I had made the right decision, and felt foolish for my melodramatic change of heart at 40,000 feet above the earth and the subsequent tear through the airport to catch the next flight home. I wanted to shake the girl on my bed, who sat still as an ivory statue, and beg her to tell me what she wanted, but then I realized that she was on _my_ bed, and that at least told me something. I sat down next to her and waited.

"It won't make a difference," she finally said, so quietly I almost didn't hear her.

"What do you mean?"

"It never does." Her whispers cut through me like a razor. "I told him to come home; he didn't. I told them to stop; they didn't. I told you not to fall; you did."

The tears were back, liquid diamonds that spilled down her face and onto the pillow hugged to her torso.

My chest closed tight and I swallowed, fighting for oxygen.

"Can't you have some faith me?" I whispered back.

"How can I? You don't have any in yourself! You pretend to be stupid so people will accept you on their terms, rather than letting them like you for who you really are!"

I stared at her in shock, air rushing in my lungs strangely.

She wiped her eyes and glared at me. "You refuse to see how good you are or how much the music and the band depends on you."

Her voice was broken, and the sentences came out in searching phrases, as if she were fumbling through a second language, and I hung on every word, like a man with amnesia looking for his name.

"We need you, Emmett! Jasper can't lead us without you driving him, and the twins fall apart without your support -and that's not just in band, that's in life, too. You make Edward have a sense of humor and keep Alice sensible, and me, I-"

She stopped, and I gripped my hands into fists, trying to hold still and listen, resisting every urge to crush her to me.

"Emmett, every note I play is for you."

I gave in then, and kissed her, harder than I had intended, but her hands were clutching at my shoulders, and her tongue was in my mouth, her lips stealing the last shred of my soul that she didn't already own, and then she gave me hers when she said, "Stay."

I pulled away, breathing deep, trying to clear my head, but she was having none of it, and she shoved me down on the bed, straddling my hips. She bit me, little nipping kisses on my neck, my jaw, my ear, knowing how crazy that always made me, hard teeth and soft lips and her hands were everywhere, tearing at my clothes until I was naked and she wasn't, so I flipped her on her back and jerked her jeans off, kissing and licking at every inch of skin, lingering when she gasped and laughing when she smacked at my hands for wandering into ticklish places.

She moved away, and straddled me again, wet folds flush along the length of me, and slid back and forth, coating me with herself, and it was incredible. She was slick and hot and ready, but her hands were on my biceps, and she was pushing me down; I couldn't move without breaking her hold and hurting her.

"Rose," I protested, wanting to be inside, but she leaned in and stopped my mouth with a kiss, soft breasts shoved up on my chest and the slide of skin on skin was fantastic. I bucked against her, fighting her, but not really, especially when she wriggled, and I slid partially in. Her wet warmth enveloped just the tip of my cock, and she stayed there, rocking slightly, taunting me.

I grabbed fistfuls of the blanket, trying to hold still, unable to think of anything except grabbing her hips and shoving up into her.

"Fuck, Rosalie," I gasped. "Don't tease me!"

She said nothing, and I looked into her eyes -brilliant sky blue, finally unclouded by tension- and she smiled, all sexy-hot and slow.

"Let go," she said, and I uncurled my hands, spreading my hands flat on the fabric, letting her lead, trying to give her what she wanted without breaking her spell and losing control.

She shook her head at me, and sat up on her knees, lifting her hands and weight from my arms and hips. She dragged her fingertips over my shoulders, raking her short nails over my nipples, down my belly and then up across her own, over her breasts and then shoving her hair out of her face, piling it on her head with one hand, the other moving back down to the only place we touched. She traced through her pink folds with a finger, and then stroked my shaft, and it was the hottest damned thing I'd ever seen in my life.

"Let go," she said again, taking me an inch deeper.

"I'm not touching you!" I moaned, body shaking with lust and self-restraint. What did she want!?

She leaned in close, her nipples grazing my chest, hot points of contact that made me arch off the bed, an instinctive sudden movement. She pulled away slightly, and I gritted my teeth, not understanding her game, or why she was teasing me like this. She shook her head again, and her hair fell down, gorgeous and silky over my face and neck as she leaned in closer, and spread her knees, taking a tiny bit more of me into her slippery heat.

"Let go," she whispered, mouth moving over mine, and just as I began to understand what she was getting at, she bit my bottom lip, sending me over the edge.

I let go.

I shoved up into her, grabbing her thighs and pushing her down, and she took me impossibly deep. The heat from her body and the sliding skin made me groan, and she moaned with me, and I gave over to it, the lust and passion overwhelming all thought, and she rode me hard, giving back as much as she took. My hands gripped her hips, rocking her over me as I grew thick and huge, pulling her onto me in some selfish feral rhythm that was going to take me there too quickly, but then she went first, back arching and muscles taut, crying my name out to the world, and I held her body earthbound while she soared.

She was so beautiful, this goddess with platinum skin and gold hair, and she was right, it was hard for me to believe I could deserve her, but she was smiling at me, and I nearly came when she whispered, "Do it again."

I gathered her to me and rolled over, still deep inside, throbbing hard, and used every trick I knew of hands and teeth and lips to bring her around again. This time the tempo was something less frenzied and somehow more intense, a slow grind of hips and mouths and muscle and skin, and I held back nothing, giving her my weight and all my length and my entire heart, and she took it all, the only girl who could. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and met me, stroke for stroke and thrust for thrust, and kissed me when the pleasure overwhelmed me and I came, but she was with me and her tight little contractions gripped me as I exploded into her. Once again today, I touched the sky, and again, she brought me home.

We lay there, panting, and then she nudged at me, and I rolled again, sliding out of her but keeping her on top, enjoying the weight of her stretched out over me, the realness and solidity of her pulling me back down to earth. I toyed with her hair as I caught my breath, not wanting to move ever again. She looked up at me, relaxed and easy, and traced my satisfied smile with a fingertip.

Our peace was ruined by both our phones buzzing with texts, and a fist pounding the door.

"Hey, shithead," my brother called, "You wanna tour Europe this summer, or shall I tell Volturi Guard you're too busy doing your math homework?"

Rosalie and I shared a split second glance of mutual shock, and then leapt off the bed in a mad scramble for our clothing. I opened the door to Edward, who stood there looking smug.

"Alec and Santiago are on a video conference with Jasper and Alice," he said, but then he lost his cool and bounced in his shoes like an excited little kid. "They want us to open for them, and they'll start promoting our EP the second we say we're onboard-"

He stared at me and wrinkled his nose.

My room smelled of sex and musk. I quirked an eyebrow, daring him to say anything, and folded my arms across my shirt, grinning when I realized it was on inside out and backwards. He looked at me uncertainly.

"So, are you staying?" he asked, glaring at me.

I waited, baiting him a second longer. He'd been a little bastard to me for the past week.

"You did not turn around in Chicago just to get laid," he said, between clenched teeth.

"Oh, she's that good," I said, enjoying this.

Rosalie smacked me on the back of my head and ruffled Edward's hair.

"He's staying," she said, taking my hand and pulling me down the hall to join the rest of the band.


End file.
